


Like Real People Do

by QueenForADay



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Literally Having a Crisis, Crowley Is Incredibly Chill About the Entire Thing, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kissing, M/M, Morning After, Morning Cuddles, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-06 21:30:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19071052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenForADay/pseuds/QueenForADay
Summary: Maybe, somewhere in Heaven, there exist two separate lists. That’s what Aziraphale likes to imagine. Two lists, both very aptly named; Things That Angels Do Not Need To Do, and Things That Angels Should Definitely Not Do.Or, Aziraphale Wakes Up Having A Crisis About Sleeping With Crowley





	Like Real People Do

Maybe, somewhere in Heaven, there exist two separate lists. That’s what Aziraphale likes to imagine. Two lists, both very aptly named; Things That Angels Do Not Need To Do, and Things That Angels Should Definitely Not Do.

For example, angels don’t have to eat. Or drink. Or sleep. In his time on Earth, he’s watched Father’s pets seem bound to do these sorts of things. If they didn’t eat enough, they would grow thin and frail. Then they would die. If they don’t drink enough, they wither. And die. He hasn’t encountered a death by the lack of sleep, but he’s sure that it must follow the same path as the others.

A design flaw if ever he saw one.

And, although Aziraphale doesn’t need food or drink or sleep to continue living, it’s something he does partake in. _Assimilating into human life_ he once told Gabriel during one of his routine check-ups. _If I am to remain on Earth, shouldn’t I behave just like they do? To blend in?_

He eats in nice restaurants and drinks nice water and wine. Every so often, he’ll sleep in nice beds.

As for Things That Angels Should Definitely Not Do, well, he can imagine a great deal of things.

One in particular sticks out in his mind.

 _No romantic or sexual liaisons with a demon_.

So that’s why Aziraphale, the morning after the Almost-Apocalypse and his first romp with Crowley, he finds himself wide awake, staring up at the ceiling, wondering why someone from either of their departments hasn’t burst through the door to smite them both.

His fiddles with the fabric of the bedsheets. He did something that he Should Not Have Done. And, if he was going to be completely honest with himself – because angels should Always do that – he liked it.

No shred of remorse floats around inside of his body. He should know; he spent the entire night looking for it.

As for his bedmate, Aziraphale is pretty sure that demons don’t need to eat, drink, or sleep either. But Crowley is peacefully snoozing beside him; one arm pillowed under his head, while the other is lightly slung over the angel’s waist. He is, for lack of a better term, _sprawled_ across his own bed. _You can stay at my place, if you like_. The words still drift around in the angel’s head. Warmth floods over him.

Aziraphale wonders vaguely if Crowley’s kind has a list like the angels must have. But he can only imagine that having a romantic or sexual liaison with an angel couldn’t be seen as an entirely bad thing. That kind of temptation would be gladly celebrated. That’s how upstairs loses many of its fledgelings.

“I can practically _hear_ you thinking,” a voice mumbles.

Aziraphale lets his head roll to one side. Crowley stares back at the angel with serpent eyes. It’s like sleep has never touched him at all. There’s no trace of it either in his face or eyes.

The angel quirks his lip. “Yes, well. I apologise for that.” He says, glancing down to his hands clasped over his chest. Their clothes are in different regions of the room. His own suit jacket, shirt, and trousers are somewhat-neatly laid over the back of a nearby chair. Crowley’s jacket and pants are strung near the door. His shirt is still hanging on to the edge of the bed, escaping being kicked off at some point during the night.

One of Aziraphale’s hands is snatched by his bedmate. Their fingers curl and coil together. “Something’s churning around in there,” Crowley mumbles, shuffling over slightly towards the angel’s side. “Not something entirely pleasant either. And we can’t have that, can we?”

Something happens. Aziraphale’s heart – or where a human would have a heart, anyway – seemingly swells. Warmth floods through his bones and veins.

“It’s nothing,” Aziraphale tries to wave off, turning on to his side to face Crowley directly. “I’m sorry to have woken you up.”

The demon’s lip lifts into a ghost of a smile. “You’ll tell me eventually,” he declares, tugging Aziraphale’s hand, and arm, closer towards him. Aziraphale’s body is helpless but to follow. As soon as the angel’s bared chest touches that of his bedmate, Crowley looses a terrible but disarming smirk. “Not now, maybe, but later. I’ll get it out of you eventually.”

Aziraphale blinks as a chaste kiss is pressed to his temple. “Are you alright, angel?”

A hum is what Crowley gets as a reply. “Yes, I’m wonderful.”

“Glad to hear it.”

A quiet moment passes between them. Aziraphale takes it as a moment to mould his body to Crowley’s, lying against the demon’s side. Crowley plays with Aziraphale’s fingers on one side, while his other hand goes to the angel’s back. Long fingers trace along the knobs of Aziraphale’s spine. It’s all so...calm. Even though he faces the other side of the room now, where a blank grey wall is all that he can look at, he wants to glance over his shoulder towards the window. He wants to check; how could both of their departments just leave them be? Surely they’re devising something. They’ve lain together for Heave—

“And there you go again.”

Aziraphale peers up. He’s greeted by a lopsided grin and glinting eyes. Crowley brings one hand up to card his fingers through the angel’s curls. “Where did you go, just then? What’s so important to think about that you don’t stay here with me?”

“You know me,” Aziraphale tries to smile. Whether or not it will stick to his face, he’s not sure. “A worrywart through and through.”

Crowley cocks his head. “Which begs the question; what has you so worried?”

At that, something tries to lodge itself within the angel’s throat. A lump, choking off and drowning words that tries to float to the surface.

Crowley lifts his chin. “You don’t regret it, do you?” His voice is different. Not laced with the usual assurance it usually has. Something all too akin to doubt is starting to bubble up.

Aziraphale reaches out, cupping the demon’s cheek. His thumb runs along Crowley’s cheekbone. “No, no! I very much enjoyed it!” he rushes out. “I just...I’m fearful as to...What will happen,  after.”

Crowley cocks his head. “After? What are you talking about?”

Aziraphale opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a choked-out sort of noise in the place of words. He isn’t like his siblings. Swords and other weapons haven’t really been his thing. Ever since giving away that flaming sword, Aziraphale has relied on his words. He’ll always have words, at the end of the day.

But right now, none are coming to him.

“They made it pretty clear, angel,” Crowley suddenly mumbles. His long fingers are still in the angel’s hair, combing it through and occasionally twirling around curls. “No one from up or downstairs will be bothering us any time soon.”

Crowley is warm. There’s a certain type of heat radiating off of his skin as Aziraphale lies against him. Even with only a light silk sheet slung low over their hips, the bed feels just a tad too warm. But, as Aziraphale considers it, it’s not that unpleasant.

Trailing his fingers down the demon’s chest, Aziraphale thinks. “When you said, at the park, that neither of us has a side anymore...”

Crowley hums. A gentle encouragement to continue on with whatever trail of thought the angel is heading down.

Aziraphale chews his lip. “Well, what did you mean by that, exactly?”

“That you and I are evermore Earth-bound, I imagine. Not in a felled way, but that Gabriel and Beelzebub won’t be bothering us any time soon.”

The angel lifts his head from the demon’s chest. “Yes, but...we are still what we are, aren’t we?” Crowley blinks. “You are still a demon, and I an angel. We just...don't have anyone to report back to anymore.”

Fingers trail lightly up and down Aziraphale’s back. That would be the essence of it, yeah,” Crowley hums. He reaches out and catches the angel’s chin between his fingers. “Tell me, angel; what has brought all of this on? Did us finally falling into the same bed together give you a crisis?”

A blush starts along the angel’s cheeks.

Crowley tilts his head. His eyes narrow slightly. “If you’re worried about Gabriel, or Michael, or whoever else bursting through that window and smiting you for lying with me, know that I wouldn’t let any of those feathered bastards lay a hand on you.”

The angel blinks. “And I would do the same for you, if any of your lot rose up through the floorboards.”

The city outside awakens. Almost all at once, chatter from people moving about outside floats up through the window. Cars and buses zoom past, occasionally honking at each other. There’s a certain type of relief that suddenly floods over Aziraphale. The world was meant to end yesterday; and nothing happened. Time still ticked by and life continued. Aziraphale’s ears twitch at the noise floating up from those below. A reminder that the world is still there.

“It’s...peculiar, isn’t it?” Aziraphale says, laying his head back down. He fits his head just beneath Crowley’s chin. Every breath that the demon takes puffs across the top of Aziraphale’s head. Crowley hums. Another prompt for the angel to keep talking. Looking to some other part of Crowley’s room, one of the other undecorated grey – almost chrome – walls, Aziraphale continues. “If one were to think about it, is there anything such as good or bad?”

Crowley turns his head just enough for his lips to brush along the angel’s cheek. He breathes a gentle sigh. “Are you always this philosophical with your pillow talk?”

The angel presses on. “I mean, what is good and what is bad? I know that your lot are inherently ad. They do bad things. I don’t know if I can say the same about Gabriel and our siblings.” The angel peers up at the other. “I know that we’re known to be good, but for someone like Gabriel to actively _want_ a war? I don’t know if that’s good at all.”

“And then there’s us,” he continues. Crowley tilts his head back. His eyelids have already fluttered shut. At some point, he wonders, Aziraphale will just fall back asleep. Or Crowley will, and he won’t have to listen to these ramblings anymore. “You may be the nicest demon that I know-”

“-What did I say about calling me nice?-”

“You _are_ ,” the angel prods, tightening his hold on his partner. “You are nice, and good, beneath all of that bad.” Even with Crowley’s eyes shut, he can practically hear the angel smiling. It’s infuriating.

He huffs. “And you, angel?” he opens one eyelid, peering down at his partner. “Is there any bad in you?”

The angel almost seems to balk at the idea.

“There is,” Crowley hums, closing his eyes again, and lying further back against the mound of pillows pushed up to the headboard of the bed. “You do things that you don’t need to do. You eat because you enjoy it. You drink because that’s fun too. Angels are a stuffy sort; not having an ounce of fun or enjoyment in the millennia that they’re alive. And then there’s you,” Crowley chuckles, “doing things just for the sake of it. One could see that as being bad.”

Aziraphale doesn’t say anything else. If anything, Crowley has to open his eyes again to check that the angel hasn’t fallen back asleep because of how long the silence stretches on for.

“Is that what you’re thinking about, hmm?” he says, shuffling slightly to draw the angel even closer to him. If they were any closer, they would be sharing the one body. “Not being as good as you once thought?”

Something that vaguely resembles a frown creases Aziraphale’s brow. Or, as much as a frown as he is able to manage. “Yes, I rather think you’re right.”

Crowley turns his head just enough to press a light kiss on Aziraphale’s nose. “Here’s my question to you, angel: is being purely good a good thing? Or being purely bad a bad thing? You said it yourself, when we were with Adam. Maybe being human – a mixture of good and bad – is exactly what we need to be.”

At the mention of the boy’s name, Aziraphale vaguely wonders how he’s feeling today. He didn’t know exactly what to make of the Antichrist; but was pleasantly surprised to find out that he’s just an ordinary child, who is probably under a firm grounding by his father.

His thoughts are interrupted by a deep and long sigh. Crowley’s fingers continue to trail lightly up and down the angel’s spine. “We’re not doing anything today,” he decides firmly, tightening his hold on his partner.

Aziraphale’s arm coils over Crowley’s waist. Holding himself firmly against the demon’s side, he buries his face into Crowley’s neck. The demon carries a scent; nothing like any of the other demons that stench of pure sulphur. But this is of warmth, like a burning hearth, mixed with spices. It’s a scent he’s carried for years; something that he left behind during all of their previous meetings through history. Aziraphale breathes in a lungful of it. Warmth washes over him, loosing muscles and making his body practically melt into the mattress.

“Go back to sleep, angel,” Crowley hums. He sounds just on the cusp of sleep himself, teetering over the edge and about to tumble over. “We can discuss all of this later on.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr; yourqueenforayear.tumblr.com
> 
> Comments & Kudos gladly appreciated!
> 
> [Aziraphale's whole Crisis about what is Good and what is Bad was mildly inspired by [THIS TUMBLR POST](https://imfeelingthelove.tumblr.com/post/185321923168/the-thing-i-find-so-interesting-in-good-omens-is)


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